The map lay there mutely, offering no answers.
Nell sighed.
She was disappointed that her father had hidden such an underwhelming map in the portfolio as his last possession, confused as to why he’d kept it all these years despite knowing it was so worthless, and yes, a little upset at his sudden death, even if she was still too angry at him to figure out how to grieve yet. Mostly though, she was just bitter and exhausted.
You know what, she thought. Serves you right.
Dr. Daniel Young’s last ever entry into the database, and it would be for this useless thing. Logging the map would make a nice goodbye ritual, perhaps. And that it would be a little bit of a screw you to him as well didn’t hurt.
It was definitely not enough to make up for it all, but it was something. At least a little funny.
She edged her chair closer to the table and popped the screen up to rouse the machine from its slumber. It was old, very old, and Nell knew the program would still be installed, even though she hadn’t used it in years. As she waited for the database to load, she picked up the map again, and turned it over and over in her hands absently. On the back panel, near the bottom corner, something caught her eye.
A little hand-drawn symbol: a simple eight-point compass rose set in a circle, with the letter C in the center.
She had forgotten about that little mark on it. She’d noticed it that day in the library as she’d been proudly showing off the contents of the Junk Box to everyone, and had meant to look into it further once her father had given his approval.
But of course, that was not how the day had gone.
After, it hadn’t mattered. She’d been fired—her life wrecked and the map lost to her, she’d assumed thrown back into the uncatalogued archives or perhaps even submitted with paperwork for disposal. She’d wanted nothing to do with it anymore anyway.
But now, she studied the little mark with renewed interest.
Was it just an errant doodle from an old owner, or was it actually important? What did it mean?
The program finally sprang to life on the screen with a happy ding, drawing her back.
The interinstitution database was massive. It had been in wide use since the 1980s, back when the internet was still the domain of scientists and academic institutions, and had only grown from there. Books, relics, maps, manuscripts, statues, tools, art—anything and everything that had ever been in any museum, library, or university in almost any country—was in the database. Nell had loved seeing how many copies of each specimen existed elsewhere, who had them, and what condition they were in. She couldn’t imagine the amount of work it had taken to create it. To date, she’d never once come across an item for which there wasn’t at least a rudimentary entry.
Nell selected the option to search for an existing log and entered as much information as she could glean from her father’s odd map. After a moment, the screen spit back several rows of information. There were 212 similar entries in total. About average for an item of this caliber—it was very commonly available, but also of very little value. She clicked on the first one.
Log Identifier: G77089257435
Specimen Name: Esso 1930 Highway Map, New York State
Date of production: 1930
Description: Mass produced foldable map depicting major highway routes of New York State by mapping company General Drafting Corporation for distribution at major gas station retailers in the relevant geographic area.
Attachments: [COVER.jpg] [COVER2.jpg] [LEGEND]
Date of log entry: 24 July 1987
Location: Americana Exhibit, Rochester County Public Library, Rochester, New York, USA.
Status: MISSING
“Oof,” Nell muttered to herself at the last line. It was an old superstition, but she never liked to make an entry from a lost item. But it was going on midnight, and she was utterly exhausted. Taking an extra half hour to enter all the data manually for such an insignificant specimen would be a waste of time.